Loose Appearances, Stuck Personalities
by Zero'sOnlyDragon
Summary: Gifted AU. Lucy Carlyle thought high school was going to be a breeze, but when she gets sent off to a gifted school after a few mishaps her entire view of the world is flipped upside down. DEPRAC may be a school for gifted kids, but these kids are more than just gifted. And DEPRAC is certainly more than just a school. Locklyle, Flubbins, rated for imagery and language.
1. Moving Isn't what I would call it

**Chapter 1: Moving Isn't what I would call** **it**

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If you had asked me what I thought I was going to do in my high school year I would have replied with Playing violent video games, studying and acing all of my tests with no intention of getting anywhere in life other than up. I would have had no social life with normal people and just kept to my tiny corner called my desk all day long and eaten lunch in a deserted area of the school. To me, life would have been simple and easy compared to what other people had to deal with. I could just skate by with my smarts and skill without relying on anyone else or talking to anyone else.

However, that all changed when my so-called Sisters had seen me, on more than one occasion, doing something they labeled as strange.

It started off as small talks in the den. Them along with my mother asking me what was wrong and that I could talk to them, and to which I would reply simply, nothing is wrong. Next, it was my mother non-discreetly talking to my teachers or my sisters asking _my classmates_ if they could talk about "understand something at their school". Eventually, they all sat me down, giving me numbers of psychiatrists in the area, asking me to pick one. Although I did so with malice and begrudging, I had no intention of letting anyone in or my guard down. That's just how normal people get you. They get you to let your guard down through sweet talk and kind words only to crush you later with what you have told them.

The psychiatrist's name was Dr. Penelope. I had to go to her office every day of the week over summer vacation. I always wondered why she preferred her first name over her last one, but she never told me why. To be honest, I had almost liked it there. But within the first week of going, I had already scared off the lady I was seeing with my "strange ability". So much so, that my Mom had gotten a call from Penelope's Daughter, explaining the trauma that I had put her through and that had her mother told her not to press charges, she would have sued. While my mother apologized to the woman, I could hear the other lady on the line talking to her about something. To this, I had only mentally laughed while my mother hung up the phone and went to her computer. I smiled, thinking that this would be the last of it. Mother's last attempt to shut me up and make me the daughter she wanted me to be. I didn't go to school when the time came. I was starting to worry my mother was discontinuing my education.

Later, I will have wished I would have stopped her from pulling up her laptop, opening the browser, and surfing the internet with the tag "schools for gifted children".

Within two days of searching, my "legal guardian" had come across a school named DEPRAC (whatever that stood for). It was apparently a boarding school for gifted and special children. My first thought that went through my mind was that name sounded like flem rising in the back of your throat. The second was, so she wants to sign me up for a special needs boarding school for impaired kids? Not that there's anything wrong with that type of school… however, I was not impaired and had no mental illnesses, so why should I have to go?

Next thing you know, instead of already going to school, I was packing my bags two weeks later. I didn't have much, as I looked around my room. I Decided on taking only two suitcases to fit the stuff I was taking with me. The first contained: a few pairs of clothes (3 skirts, 4 button ups, a vest, and 3 pairs of nylons), a scarf, and an old beat up pair of knee-high boots. The other was chock-full with books, notepads, journals, sketchbooks, and art supplies. I didn't exactly know where I was going at the time, but I wasn't going to leave without my essentials. On my person, I was to take my fish bowl and an iPod with my earbuds.

The following day, and with the help of my sisters, I heaved my bags into cab trunk. My oh so loving mother told the driver where to go and paid him in advance. I briefly heard the name Barnes before I tuned out the world with my thoughts. Earlier she had explained that I was to go alone since school rules said so. Immediately finding the place sketchy, I had argued for a solid week, but to no avail. Other rules were explained to me, but I didn't bother to listen. Climbing into the back seat, I could hear the whispers of my sisters, muttering gay comments and snide remarks behind the now closed shut cab door. My only remaining parental figure looking almost relieved.

Not once did I look back at the past home I was leaving for another rental.

Taking in my surroundings, my gaze flitted around the automobile. It was standard, a bit rickety by the sound of the engine, but other than that it seemed safe enough. The felt seats mixed in with the smell of fast food restaurants and old chewing gum made for the nastiest aroma. Stains on the floor from drinks and other fluids also added to the stench. I was lucky to have brought the fishbowl with me. I looked at the driver in his seat (I was on the passenger side). Barnes didn't look too strange at all from where I'd sat in the cab, but something about him had made me… uneasy in a way. I couldn't take a good look through due to the plastic screen separated me and the driver. Although He appeared to be talking on the phone and laughing while he did so. I could not hear a peep of his conversation through the glass.

 _And judging by the words he is mouthing, I don't think I want to._ I thought to myself in slight disgust due to the foul language of my driver. It sickened me more as he reminded me of the only friend I had when his fuse was lit. He never could keep his mouth shut, so naturally was surprised that he hadn't uttered a single word all day. Looking down at the fishbowl, I let my index finger glide along the rim as the car drove away. Inside the bowl, were dark turquoise rocks and a plastic skull she kept inside. I stared at the bowl before tapping on the glass in a pattern of three taps, then two, then four, then five, then three, then one, and repeat. This, I thought, was sure to stir up trouble, but I didn't care. I was in need of a mental breather. Loneliness and unease brewed in the pit of my stomach and I didn't want either emotion right now.

Slowly, and right on cue, a sickening green fog began to surround the skull, covering the object in a dark green glow. A surge of presence swept through the car as the skull began to soften. I watched with a frown as it slowly starts to move, hearing the plastic crackle as it was stretched into an evil grin. A face formed on the exterior of the object, looking like more of a mask than a face. It was plasma, I knew that, but it always reminded me of a see-through, lava lamp fluid engulfing the cheap prop. Small pops could be heard from the plasma as it moved and contorted with the skull's expression. Which currently was one of disgust.

" _If I had a nose, I would have murdered it by now."_ It spoke in a quiet raspy voice. I sighed in response. While I commended the skull for trying to make me feel better by stating the obvious, it didn't change the situation we were in. Also, I responded verbally (and rather rudely now that I look back)

"You're a ghoul attached to a skull, you can't smell either way" The skull looked slightly hurt for a second, but I was in no mood to care. I didn't make eye contact with the ghost. Instead, I looked out the window, memorizing the streets and planning my routes back h-Back to the place I grew up. I had no home anymore. No parents, No sisters. To everyone, I knew I was dead, or so the rumor spread. To my family I was nuts. I was looking out for me and the skull now and that was fine by me. The skull didn't need much looking after, but I supposed he still counted. I didn't need anyone else.

" _Penny for your thoughts?"_ The raspy voice tried to initiate a conversation again. I looked down for a second, just to see if it was serious or not, then turned back to memorizing. I took a moment to asses my thoughts before actually responding.

"How far do you think this place is from the nearest city?" I could practically hear the frown in the skull's tone.

" _You really should try this time instead of distancing yourself. It's not healthy at all."_ I scoffed.

"Yes, because a dead skull with yellow teeth knows about health habits." I knew it was rude, I knew what I was saying, but only now do I regret it. Oh, how I regret the things I said that day.

" _Lucy, please, you need to open up. Ever since the accident you've only had meaningful conversations with the dead because you wanted to. You did fine before-"_ I cut him off, not wanting to tread down _that_ pretty topic.

"The accident happened, you appeared, and then I had many many friends." I smiled at the window, slightly seeing my reflection in the glass. My hair had certainly seen better days.

" _Lucy, all of your friends are either dead or on deaths row."_ My small smile fell. He made sense. He usually did (least in some cases). I, however, didn't want to listen. Yet, I let him go on. " _Lucy, you have a wall around you only the dead can go through."_ I snapped.

Turning to him, I spat, "What's wrong with that?! It's plenty times better than going out there and getting stabbed by the first person I make eye contact with!" Quickly, reality struck again and I remembered I wasn't the only one in this infernal vehicle. I glanced at the driver long enough to see that he was still on the phone and not paying attention to the back. Once I deemed the car safe again, I went back to the glass protecting me from currently jumping out of the moving, 4-cylinder car.

" _One day, someone is going to look at that wall and start to climb. And when that day comes, you won't know what to do."_ The voice was fading at the end. Softening in tone before stopping completely. Fizzing and popping noises began to increase from the bowl. Then all was silent again aside from the clattering engine and the tires sticking on the scorching country road. I looked down at the bowl. As if the apparition had never appeared, not a trace was left of it. I immediately felt alone once again as the car ride stretched along. Angered that it left and with such a dumb message, I began muttering to myself. Suddenly, each word I spoke drove me closer and closer to a lulling sleep.

"Stupid skull. No one will even come close to me, so wanting to get to know me? That's… That's just simply…impossible..." Using my arm as a rest, I yawned and closed my eyes. I don't know when I dosed off exactly, but all I remember is waking to the sound of the engine stopping. My head jolted up and with sleepy eyes, I studied my surroundings. The driver was off the phone and getting out of the car. The more I looked around, the more I began realized how different the car was. It now carried sleek leather seats with a sparkling clean interior. The smell had vanished. In fact, the only thing I could smell distinctly was the water in the fishbowl.

Quickly, I turned to the window to see outside. Instead of seeing outside like I wanted to, I was met with the cab driver. HE at least hadn't changed. His appearance still wasn't inviting and the scruffy face of his needed a shave, however something about him was… different. The man was actually smiling and he seemed to be more relaxed than he was when he had picked her up. Immediately, I became skeptical. I tightened my grip around the fishbowl, the slight radiation my ghost gave off giving me some comfort as the driver opened my side door. I unhooked my seat belt as he did so, but I didn't get out of the car. The driver did nothing but smile.

"Miss Carlyle, it's time for you to get out now." Mr. Barnes' tone was polite enough, so I did as he said. Getting out, I steadied myself and placed my feet on the rough gravel. I found this odd at first, but as I looked around, the driveway was gravel from the road in. What I also noticed, that I had failed to in the car, was the giant Castle-like structure in front of me.

I have read many books in my time but what stood in front of me was different than anything I had imagined. The concrete pillars and brick structures stood about 10 stories high with buildings the same height on the sides, slanted inward to create what I believed to be a courtyard. The black metal gate in front of me also shone much craftsmanship. Lights hung by the gate in lantern casings. The flora outside, and what I could see inside, was also stunning. The shapes crafted expertly into trees and bushes alike. The variety of the plants were also quite impressive. However, my excitement lasted a brief moment. Unease crept back into my system as I looked at the large oak doors at the entrance ways away.

This was a crazy school for wack jobs. I doubt it was as pleasant as it looked. There had to be something going on, nothing is ever this… magnificent. I looked at the driver as he opened the trunk and took out the suitcases. After a brief squabble with the man about not wanting to burden him with my things, I took the one with my books. In all reality, I just didn't want anyone going near my things. Clothes I didn't care about, but these I did. I held onto the fishbowl with my other hand as the Driver and I worked our way up to the dark doorway. The gate creaked behind us as I shut. Suddenly, as if that creak had acted like an air horn, I found it odd how dark it was.

Glancing up, I noticed that the sky was covered in dark clouds with small bits of light coming through. This was certainly weird since when I had fallen asleep it was definitely sweltering, an oddity for October but not uncommon. Once I noticed that I began noticing the differences from when I got into the cab versus when I got out. Even the air felt different than when I had hopped into the cab. I grew quietly skeptical. Giving no signs of alarm, I took a deep breath to remain calm. The weather shifted quickly sometimes so it wasn't too odd.

I came to a stop just before the steps that lead to the doorway. Up close, the double doors seemed a lot bigger than when I had first seen them. Then again, the trek from the cab to the doors took few minutes longer than I had expected. The oak wood was stained a darker brown and the chips on the door showed how recent the staining had been. The bronze door handles looked oh so inviting, similar to the lion and unicorn knockers that hung on the doors. The Driver in front of me grabbed the lion knocker on the right door and swung the clasp. I gritted my teeth at the sound of the metal clashing together. We didn't wait more than a few seconds before we were greeted by two boys probably two or three years older than I. One was tall and slim, dressed in a dark suit. His large smile made the doorway seem so much more inviting than it had a few seconds other was the complete opposite with a tracksuit. His face looked very punch-able and the glare on his glasses gave a reverse effect. Appearances aside, they both seemed alright.

Little did I know this moment changed the entire course of my life and I wasn't going back to the city anytime soon.

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 **A/N: It feels so good to get this out there! I don't know how many times I debated on actually posting this. The Idea for this popped into my head when I started thinking about Japanese class structure, like how they have A class- D class. So I thought about a special boarding school in London. Then London led me to think of Dr. Who, which led to monsters, which lead to ghosts, which lead to L &Co. **

**I'm not sure how I will fit the story characters in, but I'm going to try to stick to the L &Co. stories in terms of Characters and the events. But I'm going to change the events... sorta... You'll see. I Have fixed most of the mistakes, but if there are any more, feel free to point them out. I have always wanted to do a L&CO. story, and I am sure I will post another soon. For now, I will have random posting, but I will try to make a schedule as soon as I can. Thank you so much for reading!**

 **~Pheonix =]**


	2. Meeting Strangers and Lots of Walking

**Chapter 2: Meeting Strangers and Lots of Walking**

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"Barnes! Your back again I see, Couldn't get enough of us?" It was the pudgy one who spoke out. While he did so, he pushed his glasses from the tip of his nose to the bridge. I was appalled by the rudeness toward the driver. For a second, I thought about saying something back to him, but quickly realized the better of the situation. They were probably friends. Yes, friends. This noodle haired piglet is just playing, not being a slob. I glanced up to see Barnes' face. It certainly showed irritation, but he held his composure well. Looking back, the taller one opened his sunshine grin to speak.

"Oh, hush George. Mr. Barnes isn't fond of this part house, remember?" Even his speech was proper and eloquent. His posture was as noticeable as Barnes'. However, the "bull in a china shop" was not shy of a uncleaned lou with a slouch that matched Quasimoto's. I wondered what the relationship was between the Shining Boy and the Raw Bones in front of Barnes (I stood a little bit behind him). "So, how may we help you Mr. Barnes?" polite and to the point. I saw Barnes' shoulders relax, yet tense as he motioned my way. I tensed as the boys' eyes laid upon my figure. The two remained in the states they had when they had open the door. Yet the light in them had... shattered for some reason. The one with the smile briefly looked near the top of my head for a split second before returning his gaze. I clutched my fishbowl tighter.

"I'm here to drop off a new student, Lockwood. To do that, I need to go through the house." Barnes spoke in an aggrieved tone of voice. Something changed then. That sentence. I stood stiff, not wanting to move from the place I was now finding quite comfortable, clutching the edge of my fishbowl. Silently, the boys turned to each other with pained faces and nodded. They moved to the side and let us pass. Barnes went inside first while I followed suit.

As I passed the two boys, I felt a hand tap on my back. A shiver crawled up my skin. If there was one thing I hated almost as much as liars, it was people touching me. I pivoted on my heel, flinching away at the contact and immediately backing away. I glared at the two boys. The chubby one, George, I believed, had his arm extended, his eyes hidden beneath the glare in his glasses. I assumed he was the one who dared to touch me. His face looked all the more slappable in that instant. The tall one, however, who I assumed was Lockwood, stood with his hands in his coat pocket. His eyes darker than when he had opened the door. He gave me a small smile and mouthed the words 'good luck'. My facial expression changed from annoyed to confused. I paused a moment, staring at them before following Barnes once again.

 _These two were just pulling my chain. Although I doubt I'll enjoy my time here, it still can't be too bad._ I hoped I was right as I moved like a duckling. After moving through a long, velvet covered hallway with several different passages on the sides, we came up to another set of large doors. As Barnes' opened them, immediate nausea and dizziness followed. I couldn't understand why, since I hardly ever got nervous. I closed my eyes and began to slow. I don't remember if I kept moving, or stopped completely, but I was taken out of my thoughts as my name was said.

"Miss Carlyle, are you alright? You look as if you've seen a ghost." Barnes looked concerned. I found that phrase oddly funny. If I was to see a ghost here, my face would not have been pale, I thought. I visibly relaxed my body before responding in a calm tone.

"Yes, quite." I looked up at him as I spoke. There was a small flash as if a spark had gone off inside his brown eyes. Shaking my head for the second time, I walked out with Barnes into what I believed to be the courtyard. And I can say one thing I remember for sure. If this was a courtyard, then the yard I grew up in was a flower pot.

And I had lived on an acre of land.

The grass was a luscious green and the several garden patches held vibrant colors. It was strange for early October. The grew tall, trees, bushes, vines wrapped around wooden frames to make verandas, it was all so breathtaking. Yet the leaves retained their luscious green. It was odd that they had bloomed so grandly, but these thoughts were far from my mind as I looked around. There were several buildings on the outside of the yard, all smaller than the one I had come out of, but nonetheless, they were very large. Two of them seemed to rival in height, spanning almost half of that of the castle. Kids my age and younger still could be seen in front of the buildings and from the windows. As Barnes' and I traveled down the main road, I looked around at all of the kids. There were so many it was hard to count. There were even some young adults lounging around the place. All of them so different, yet probably here for the same reason. I counted about 5 to 6 large buildings along the sides and one smaller building at the end of the path. I assumed that's where we were heading.

As we continued walking, I began to see the looks on their faces. Most of them were happy, some were sad or distraught, and others… Others looked out at the other houses with sneers or grimaces, whispering under their breaths hateful comments and accurate jabs to their colleges. Great, I thought to myself at the time, I was dragged out of the back talking only to enter rivalries. What next, an evil leader threatening to overthrow all order to the school? I chuckled softly at my own humor. Throughout the walk, Barnes and I never spoke a word. Passing the houses, I caught the glances and stares of everyone who had managed to spot me on the pathway. What was once a buzzy field was now similar to that of a sleeping child, only small peeps of breath could be heard as sleep fell upon it. I grew nervous with all the attention now centered my way.

Luckily, I didn't have to wait that long.

The building that was once far off into the distance was now footsteps away from me. I drew closer and closer with every step. Yet every step I took, I became nauseous once again. A cold wind chilled my innards as the porch grew ever so near. Oddly enough, there was no wind, and there ceased to be even a faint breeze in the air. I raise my foot to move up the first porch step…

"Wait out here." I blinked, putting my foot down and looked up just in time to see Barnes disappear into the house, leaving my suitcase full of clothes at the bottom of the steps. I almost opened my mouth to give a comment on my situation but thought the better of it as the door creaked to a close. Perplexed, I sat on my luggage with my fishbowl on my lap. Unconsciously, I tapped on the glass in random patterns while I waited for Barnes' return. I stared anywhere my eyes could land, the hills rising in the far east, the small speck to the far left of the castle but rather far off from it. Even the houses and the ant-like kids. I began to wonder how on earth the people in here made this long of a trek to the castle and came back without complaining or relocating within the first year? Assuming this place was even open for that long. I don't know how long I waited out there as I stared into thought

Suddenly the door creaked open, causing me to jump up. I fumbled with the fishbowl as I turned around to face the door. Barnes was standing at the door. His face was red and his fist was clenched. What had caused his anger, I wasn't sure, but I knew it couldn't be good. His eyes caught mine for a split second before his wiped his face with his hand and shut the door, struggling not to slam it as hard as he could. He bent his head, still facing the door with a hand on the nob, calmer now than when he had exited. I remained silent, awaiting his verbal instructions. I may not have liked the fact I was here, but I sure as hell can tell a good-person-doing-their-job from a psycho.

"Follow me." His voice was strained. He grabbed the handle of my bag that he left before the staps. Hesitantly, I trailed behind him. Whether or not I could trust him was difficult to answer. I'd learned never to trust a frustrated man, but this one seemed… ok. So, long as there was no alcohol involved, I believed it would be alright to follow him. The sun was setting fast over the horizon as we traveled back across the pathway toward the castle. This time, the distance seemed to be even longer than it had the first time. As the shadows covered the plants and the field, I began to see a side of this place that was eerily familiar to me. Everything began to reveal a beautiful dark side to it. The plants closed themselves as the light drew away from their petals. All the color drained from the garden in under minutes.

The buildings which once looked nice and inviting were showing their imperfections under the shadows of dusk. The bright white walls on the outsides of the buildings showing a gray tone as the moon rose in place of the sun. I looked ahead at the castle, we were only halfway there, and saw its change in tone as well. Instead of being the magnificent structure I had seen before, in its place was taken over by a palace of Dark. Unlike before, it was strangely uninviting. There was an odd lack of light in the entire building Yet, as I squinted my eyes trying to look closer, a tiny speck of light could be seen going in and out of a window near the top of the structure. Seeing that, I cracked a small smile and drew my attention from the window, focusing on my surroundings.

Slowly apparitions began to form in the lonely courtyard. One by one Barnes and I were surrounded by small flecks of light. I always imagined fireflies to look like this, but the show around me was way more pretty than anything a firefly could put on. As the night day grew almost non-existent the apparitions began to form solid images. Sure, quite a few of them were a bit gory to look at, but most of them were kids. They began to play around and dance to songs invisible to my ears. I glanced at Barnes, but it was obvious that he didn't see the same things she did. He didn't see the ghosts keeping each other company in the dark silence of the night. He didn't hear their harmonious laughter or the way some of the older apparitions spoke. He was oblivious to the side the moon brought out, oblivious to the flip side of everything.

Almost everyone I have ever met was.

I used to live my life seeing the beauty in the night and the horrors it could reveal. Even now it was showing the true hue of this place. There was so many dead roaming around. The ones not mingling forced the think of their deaths for eternity. They mostly stuck to the garden areas, along with a few stragglers near the entrances of the buildings. Sitting in thought. Most of the ghost, however, looked… scared. In part, it was because of the emotions that remained at the times of their death. The other half was probably the dark feelings that surrounded all of the houses. The larger buildings held the strongest perception of malice, but nevertheless, every house carried some type of tension and hate. The castle dilated with less and less distance. Finally, we were reaching the big heavy doors of the ent-

"This way." I hadn't noticed Barnes start walking on a different, smaller, less worn path. So much for almost there. I retraced a few steps and turned left, following the wiser man. It was hard to see the path due to the little light around me -well, I should say lack of ghosts present- to help walk me down the rest of the way without tripping. Gently, as to not alert Barnes, I began to tap on the glass again. I stopped for a few seconds, expecting some type of stirring, but none came. I tapped a little more impatiently, still not getting a response. I found it weird since the skull usually kept me up all night talking and jabbering about needless things that popped into its head. While waiting for it to appear, I looked ahead to see our destination and with a small realization, I found that it was the small speck I was staring at while waiting for Barnes.

It was a four-story house, similar to ones you see in the city. Actually, almost exactly like you would see in the city, only this one was a bit older and carried a bit more class. The exterior was white with faded green shutters, but, unlike the others, the colors fit nicely with the mood of this house. Unlike the other buildings, this one was… happy. Yet there was a hint of sadness as we drew closer to the front gate. My curiosity rose with every inch I moved forward toward the house. Something about it picked at my mind as if I was meant to do something there.

The small breeze tickled the back of my neck as Barnes and I came to a halt in front of the iron gate. A wooden sign was pegged, rather unprofessionally outside the gate. It read:

LOCKWOOD & CO. HOUSE

AFTER DARK, RING THE BELL AND WAIT BEYOND THE PORCH

Very charming, I thought sarcastically as Barnes ignored the sign and opened the wonky mental gate. The closer I got to the wooden doorway, the more I saw the house's imperfections. Every surface area looked like it needed a coat of paint or at least a thorough hand wash. The walls were chipped in some areas and the door looked like it needed sanding. From what I saw of its rusted handle the door was rather old. A knocker hammered into the wood was the joining of two rapiers from where the knocker piece hung. Barnes, instead of using the doorbell beside us or the knocker, simply knocked on the door. He knocked three times and stepped back to stand next to me.

We didn't wait very long until we heard footsteps coming toward the door. Abruptly, the footsteps stopped in front of the door. A second of silence followed before chains were taken down. I started getting a bit nervous. where on earth did this man take me that was so secluded yet it had three to four locks just on the front door? The handle turned. Each second waiting for the door to open was like an eternity. I started to think about the boy who smiled at me. It was the first time since the accident anyone had smiled at me without knowing me, and it may as well have been my last. The door opened ever so slowly…

Aside from the bright light, I was blinded by the image of the unkempt bear from before, this time in his nightie and cap. Granted it was a navy blue, but I definitely did not need to see that much of this boy. I held back any of my facial expressions that would be attached or seen as disgusted. After all, I was at their house. Moreover, why was I at their house in the first place? George, at least I thought that's what I'd remembered his name was, fixed his glasses and looked at Barnes and me. His face was as stone-like as I'd seen this afternoon. A small sigh escaped him before he tilted his head back.

"Lockwood!" He didn't yell to loud, I'd barely even count it as a yell. However, not even milliseconds later had the other boy joined him.

"Who is it Geor-" He cut himself off as soon as he saw Barnes over George's head. I saw his eyebrows crease as he started to speak again, but unfold as he continued to speak. "Barnes? I don't believe we have done anything wrong, but out of general curiosity, why have you come to our door?" I watched as the three males addressed each other formally, yet casually at the same time. Barnes straightened up as he got ready to speak.

"Well, Lockwood, it seems as though you have a new colleague to take care of and show her the ropes." I stared at Barnes, not really expecting those words to fly out of his mouth at that moment. The other two were as dumbfounded as I was. Quickly my confusion was replaced with my earlier frustration. Couldn't he even bother to take care of me himself? What, was it that these were the only two people on this massive estate I knew, so obviously I'd be bunking with them? What the bloody hell was going on here! "I do hope you take good care of Miss Carlyle here. Now, I must be off" Barnes gave me a small pat on the shoulder before turning and heading back the way we came.

I wanted to scream in fury. I hid it from my face, but still, I could feel my resolve breaking as he passed through the gates and closed them shut. I made to call out for him but was stopped by a chipper voice that brought me out of my enraged thoughts.

"So, I suppose we should show you around and then to your room, you look like you've had one hell of a day." I turned to see the one called Lockwood with the handle to my other suitcase in his grasp. I closed my mouth, and nodded. No matter how angry i had been at Barnes, I was tired, and I was not about to pass up a bed just because I was confused and frustrated. I entered the house with my fish bowl in one hand and my important suitcase in the other. I passed the one who I assumed was George and entered the hovel. It wasn't like any home I had seen. If anything, it was weirder than my imagination to normal people. Masks and random items along with some newspaper clippings and photos hung from the wall. We first stopped into a living room.

I stood amazed by the feel of this room alone. White walled and cheery with a few mismatching sofas along with a singular chair at the helm of the room facing toward the fireplace. The entire house was so calming and comforting, I almost wanted to fall asleep then and there. In fact, I almost had, had it not been for male behind me.

"If I had any common sense, I'd sleep here if you weren't going to move." Irritation pricked my brain as I continued on. Lockwood had dropped my suitcase before a set of stairs and was waiting for us. His bright smile ever so prominent on his face.

"Alright, leave your things here and I'll give you a small tour of the down stairs, then I'll briefly show you the upstairs rooms as we go up to show you to your room." I nodded and set my suitcase before the stairwell. I placed the fish bowl with the skull gently atop it before following Lockwood into the house further. We hadn't taken more than a few steps before the smiling boy turned around suddenly, startling me a bit with the suddenness. "Right, we should probably introduce ourselves first. I am Anthony J. Lockwood. This charming bloke behind you is George Cubbins." He held out his hand for me to shake. I took a moment to think of what to say before I let my words fly in manners they shouldn't.

"I'm Lucy Carlyle." I took his hand, unaware of the things happening around me. Lockwood's smile faded and his firm handshake grew flimsy as he spotted something behind us, near my things. I froze upon hearing a faint pop of rising plasma. This is one reason why I hated touching people. They began to see things they never used to see. I disengaged my hand from his and played it off like I didn't know what was going on. "Um… are you alright Mr. Lockwood?" I tilted my head to add to the confusion charade. Internally, I was cursing at the skull and its horrible timing

"Ah, yes. I just thought I saw something…" His voice trailed off as he stared in the general direction of the stairwell. After a few seconds his head snapped back to me his gleaming grin returning. "Well, let's get on with it then." First stop was the kitchen. There were a lot of oddities strewn around the room. The cupboards were relatively small in size, but there were quite a few of them so it made up for it. Atop the oven were four different size gas burners the counter tops spanning from it. A small refrigerator also occupied the rather large, yet small, kitchen. In the middle of it all was a wooden table with the strangest cloth covering the surface. Doodles, notes, drawings and food stains dominated most of the strange cloth.

"That, is the thinking cloth, Miss Carlyle. We use it for many things, like figuring out problems and things going on or leaving notes if one of us leaves-"

"Or exchanging rude messages when we are mad at each other." My eyebrows crinkled at the thought of this ball of charisma and joy to be one to exchange rude messages.

"Does that happen often?" I crossed my arms. Apparently I caught Lockwood off guard with my sudden will to speak and ask questions.

"No, no, no" He reassured. "Almost never." A snort came from behind me.

"I never knew the great Lockwood could fib." Lockwood glared at George, but smiled back at me a moment later. He clapped his hands together, gesturing a bit.

"I have yet to show you the office room or the basement! And guess what? It's just over here-" The main floor was comprised of a washroom, kitchen, sitting room and library. It was probably the place where most time was spent. The basement, reached from the kitchen, was comprised of a few offices and a large area. They explained that this was where projects, homework, and practicing generally got done, along with laundry. As they showed me around these places, I learned that these two were the only ones who occupied the house. No other kids and no adults. I didn't ask too many questions, I could deal with only knowing the basics for now.

After the basement tour, George went to the library while Lockwood finished my tour. He carried my other suitcase, while I carried my important suitcase and fishbowl, upstairs. The second floor was stock full of books on shelves along with more masks and random artifacts. Lockwood pointed to the doors as he spoke.

"The last one is my room, and on the other side is George's room. Tread with caution there. I once caught him naked stress eating during last year before finals." I shuddered at the thought as did Lockwood. I felt bad for Lockwood for having that burned into his mind. "And the one beside his door is the bathroom if you ever need it." I noticed a door that he hadn't mentioned. It had a different feel than the other rooms, that small eb of sadness I had felt when Barnes and I were walking over here. Naturally, my mouth took over in my state of comfort due to the house.

"What that door for?" Lockwood turned and smiled politely at me.

"That one's private, if you don't mind. Not really that interesting. Now let's go up to your room, shall we?" I simply nodded and tread behind him. The next place was the attic landing. There were only two doors. One was a cramped bathroom, but I didn't mind it too much so long as it was easy to work around. The second was a room with a bed. Opposite of the bed was a large window. The room was only big enough for a dresser, wardrobe with a mirror on the door, and the single bed. I liked it immediately. It was way better than my room back h- from where I had come. "This used to be my room when I was little. The last one to sleep here was a student a few years ago." My mouth went off again.

"What happened to him?" I watched Lockwood's smile fall a bit, but reform as he spoke.

"He passed on. Rest his soul, fell of another house's roof. Anyways, I do hope this room is alright." A small gulp emitted from my throat, but I responded calmly.

"I'd be pleased to, thank you." I smiled widely at the boy. I don't know what happened to him, but he must not have been feeling very well. His eyes widened a bit and his cheeks turned slightly pink before he turned toward the door and began to walk out. He left my there suitcase beside the dresser.

"Alright, I'll see you in the morning. Don't worry about waking in the morning. Neither of us are early risers." He left me and my suitcases in the small room, closing the door behind him. I set the skull on the dresser and went to unpack. I put everything in my important suitcase inside of the dresser, placing everything neatly inside each drawer. Books in one, note books in another, supplies in another, sketchbooks, paints with a small easel, and finally blank canvases. After that, I hung my clothes in the armory. After I had finished unpacking, I changed into my nighty, creating a pile of clothes in the top left corner from the door. I didn't bother getting under the covers, I was already slipping away into my mind. You'd think that I would be wide awake with the nap I had in the taxi, but after all of that walking, my mind begged to differ. I sighed, listening to the silence of the night and the far off laughter from the night ghouls, drifting off into a silent sleep.

I barely heard the words, " _Goodnight kid."_ before I was dead to the world

* * *

 **A/N: OK, this was a lot more than I intended to write. As you can see I copied the detail from the book along with some lines. While being in a different world, the two will clash in this story. As the story progresses i won't use book dialogue, but for some instances, i may. I do have some things planned that are totally non-book related. Also, i am looking for songs to add onto Lucy's Ipod for later chapters, so if you have a song you recommend, i'll be happy to listen to it and see if i can fit it into the story. I'm not sure how many chapters this will have, but the first story Arc, the Arrival is done. The Summer Sneaks Arc starts next chapter. I know i'm going in book order though, so you can base my progress off of that. Again, if there are any mistakes feel free to call me out on it. I will also try to post some story by sunday every week, but if i'm late i'll try to make it longer and less mistake free.**

 **So Stay Tuned and Thanks For Reading!**

 **~Pheonix**


	3. Learning Very Slowly

**Chapter 3: Learning Very Slowly**

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Waking up that morning, I had thought I was back in my old stiff mattress and was afraid to move for fear of my back hurting. After a few moments, I realized the mattress I lay upon was softer than my own. Or was it my own? Having not yet opened my eyes, I did so. As my eyes adjusted to the light that came in through a large window I didn't remember being in my room, I found myself staring at a white ceiling. Which was odd because my room had tan walls and a crusty ceiling...

Oh, right.

Realization hit me as the events of yesterday passed through my mind. I wasn't in my room. Well, wasn't in my old room. This is my room now. It will take a while to get used to a… better yet worse life. I was still determined to hate this place and last night had proved the fact that I should hate this place. The only place filled with light I saw last night was this house and the people here, and that was suspicious. Barnes was also included in the light data, but it still didn't make much of a difference. I was glad that I had met good people rather than the bad kind, but I was still skeptical. No place should be surrounded by this much dark, after dark. So much so that even the dark loving dead couldn't stand to be near.

Sitting up on my plush bed, I took a look around my room, drinking in all of the details and flaws it had. The walls were a very pale blue and the morning sun shone through my large, orange-slice-like window. It was divided into four slices all meeting at a circle in the middle. Plaster covered up a few holes that I assumed were made by thumbtacks. Even the door had few chips and worn out spots on the wood. The dresser and wardrobe were the nicer pieces in the room, but nevertheless, they also had a few wear spots and chips in their lacer. Inhaling, the only sent to pass my nose was the paper and paints coming from the dresser drawers.

Without a word, I kicked off the covers. I grunted a bit as I pried open the dusty wardrobe, putting on a skirt and one of the four button ups I had brought with me. I slipped on a pair of nylons and slid into my nicer pair of boots. Closing the wardrobe, I looked into the mirror. I hadn't seen a better day. I sighed aloud and hung my head.

It would be very hard to hate this place considering how nice it actually was.

With a frown, I sat back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling, listening to the sounds of the house. Popping and fizzing could be heard from the other side of the room. After a few seconds, a groan followed the nasty gurgling sounds. I didn't look around, those noises were so familiar that I didn't need to look. I studied the light fixture above me as the Skull began to talk.

"Well, it's not the Buckingham Palace, but it's sure as hell better than the closet you were living in before." I smiled, but my eyes never left the round light.

"My old flat wasn't that bad." If I could have seen its face, I would have seen the look of pure disgust.

"It had mold and water stains everywhere, the bed was almost made of bricks, the floors creaked constantly, and it smelled of vomit. This is paradise." I sighed, pulling out a hairbrush from my suitcase I didn't remember packing. I stare at the object for a few seconds, wondering. This was my sister's. My elder sister Molly must have packed in my bag when she had loaded the suitcase. I mentally thanked her as I began to brush my mop of hair.

Out of the six sisters I had, Molly was the only one who didn't like the idea of sending me off. But she did, in the end. I couldn't blame her entirely and I was rather harsh when I left. I had gotten into a row with her two weeks before, accusing her of starting this whole mess. But I knew she wasn't to blame. I knew it wasn't her fault she let it slip one night in front of my legal guardian on accident. I made a mental note to at least try to make amends with her.

"I know…" My voice trailed off at the end as I thought of how I was supposed to feel about this place. Nothing about this place felt safe, except this house. I frowned, "but something is weird here, the houses and the castle… they don't seem… right. It's as if there is some kind of malicious intend coming off of every building. The only exception is this one."

The skull looked at me, raising an ectoplasmic eyebrow at me. "Lucy, there may not be malice in this building, but you're not entirely safe here, either. There is an old sadness in these walls and a growing distrust. I wouldn't be surprised if they kicked you out." I knew he was right and nodded my head.

"I'll keep alert, you can be sure of that. There is no way I am letting my guard down." I opened the door as I spoke, about to let myself out of the room.

"You're leaving me here?!" The skull cried out from its spot on the dresser. I stopped in the doorway "At least put me by the window!" I sighed once but complied with its wish. I was leaving him up here alone, after all, least I could do was provide some type of entertainment. I told it to be good as I closed the door and hurried downstairs. I stopped, however, on the second landing.

I don't know why I stopped, but my eyes immediately locked with the first wooden door in the hall. What was it about that hall that made me want to see what was inside? What could that door possible hold that was so important that it needs a room that no one was to go into? Or at least, something about it seemed… important. I sighed, even if I didn't know, I wasn't going to ask. I was told not to go near it, and that's what I was not going to do.

For now, at least.

I continued downstairs, a few of the floorboards creaking under my weight. I hopped over the last step, making sure not to step on it. I had done this ever since my 'sixth sense' was heightened. I smiled for a second, remembering something Molly had said once. Lost in thought, I failed to notice George in his grey skivvies. I am thankful I didn't, but in the process, I had also failed to notice a piece of equipment sticking out of a coat hanger. I didn't feel it at first, but I certainly felt the blood trickling down the side of my cheek. I gingerly touched my hand to my cheek.

"Oh great," I mumbled to myself. I hated getting cuts for one reason. Looking around, I saw a small mirror on the wall near the kitchen. Examining myself, I sighed, thankful that no one had seen that. It wasn't big, almost paper cut to size. I gingerly wiped the small bit of blood with my thumb and wiped that onto my skirt. Taking a deep breath and pivoting on my right heel, I led with my left into the kitchen. I felt that breath immediately hitch upon entering the room.

It had to have been 12 O'clock, but there was Lockwood in white pajamas with vertical blue stripes. Least I thought that's what his name was. The pajamas weren't very tight, but they didn't leave anything to the imagination either. His hair was messy from his slumber as he slumped back in a rather comfy looking armchair. He was reading a newspaper. How he got it considering how secluded this place was, or where he got it, was beyond my train of thought at the moment. I let my breath go, catching his attention with my not-so-subtle release of air. In milliseconds my prior discomfort was washed away with the tide of light that came from his smile alone.

"Ah, Miss Carlyle! You're awake, your breakfast is on the stove. George cooked, so I think you'll find the food pleasing rather than if I cooked." I gave him a smaller version of my trademark Carlyle Grin.

"I'll keep that in mind whenever you cook then, Mr. Lockwood." I turned to the rickety stove, tugging on the handle to open the door. I felt a small shiver run along my neck. My hand stopped midway before I shook my head and grabbed the oven handle. I took out the plate of lukewarm food, my thoughts swarming inside my mind as I went toward the chair opposite of him. That usually only happened when an apparition was extremely near, almost touching me. Suddenly, I realized Lockwood was talking to me.

"Please, Anthony or Lockwood will do." His charming demeanor was hard to look past even when the scent of food tempted my nose. I had been raised to call people by their last names until told otherwise, so I suppose this was being told otherwise, in my case.

"Alright, I'll keep that in mind, _Lockwood_ " I stressed his name as I sat down to eat, a smirk growing on my lips. I had many questions to ask. The first being what and where the hell was I. My smile began to dissipate within the first few bites. I had to admit, although I was eating slowly, the food was some of the best I had ever had aside from my own cooking. Yes, for all the doubters, I could cook pretty well. I didn't do it often, but I could. Each bite was mouthwatering despite the face I was putting on.

"So Lockwood-"He held up a hand, his eyes not straying from his paper.

"Please, questions after food. Hungry and distracted people tend to repeat questions that have already been answered." I wasn't startled by his statement, but I gave him a quizzical look before I turned back to my food. We sat in silence for a few moments, his eyes flitted across the headers while mine lay on the disappearing food on my plate. It felt normal despite the fact this was my first, and probably not the last, meal I would eat in this house. I was comfortable eating in front of Lockwood. It was odd since the only other person I had eaten around was Mary. I felt I exposed myself to much the more people saw me with my guard down.

Suddenly, the quiet was broken with a tsk of Lockwood's tongue. I hadn't expected the sound, but instead of acting startled, I gripped my fork tightly. I glanced up at the boy who was shaking his head.

"59 dead in America, a mass shooting during a concert. The shooter must not have been a country fan. Ah! and Tom Petty was one of the victims. It's a shame, I rather enjoyed a few of his songs." I hadn't heard anything about a shooting, so it must have been recent. Although, I was confused on one thing in his statements.

"Who is Tom Petty?" Immediately I was met with an incredulous look from the brunette. His eyebrows creased inwards and his eyes bugged out of their sockets.

"You've never heard of Tom Petty? Free Fallin', I Won't Back Down, You Don't Know How it Feels? Anything?" With each question, his newspaper began to get closer and closer to a close. It was starting to ring a bell with me, but I wasn't one for country music. The closest to country music I ever got to listen to on my own was Simon and Garfunkle. Sometimes I listened to it with Mary on the Radio, just for kicks. A few songs I liked, but eventually they all started sounding alike and slurred together. So I listened less and less to the radio with Mary. It pained me to think of these memories, so I quickly pushed them away. BTimes like that will always be where I leave them.

In the past.

However, even though I was understanding what he was saying and had heard of the singer prior to this, I decided that it would be best if he didn't know my music obsession. Least not yet. With a mouthful of food, I shook my head no. His disbelief shown on his face like an owl staring at prey with its large round eyes. I watched as he stared at me, turned away for a second and stared back. He did this a couple of times before he began his musical knowledge attack.

"What about Marina and the Diamonds?"

I shook my head. With each name, he slowly rose from his chair and began pacing. George came in halfway through, his clothes on (not that I noticed in the first place) and crumpled shirt untucked. He really did remind me of a pig in a pig pen. All he was missing was the curly tail. Unless you counted his uncombed mop of hair, then he had plenty tails. He watched us as Lockwood and I went back and forth.

"The Beatles."

"Nope."

"Stevie Nicks?"

"Nada"

"Bastille?"

"Nien"

"Whitney Houston?"

"Niet"

"Elton John? Surely, you've heard of him?" Again, I shook my head no. George shook his head in disbelief. Truth be told, I had heard every single name given and had a few songs stored on my iPod of each singer. My music tastes were very extensive and again, I'd rather they not know about that. Least not until I got to know them better. Surely small lies were okay till then. Yet, I couldn't shake the comfortable feeling that this moment brought me at that moment in time. Yes, I didn't smile throughout his interrogating and yes I was still eating, trying not to spit my food out with every veto. But at the same time, I was rather enjoying our conversation.

"Have you been living under a rock your entire life?" I answered that in my head rather vulgarly but kept it to myself. Instead, I shrugged.

"I never really liked music that much." Now that, ladies and Gentlemen, was a full out lie. Though, it's not like they noticed it. They didn't know me. Finishing the last of my plate, I set it aside. George, almost hawk-like, swooped on the plate and took it to the sink. I almost flinched away due to the suddenness of the action but I managed to remain my cool self. "Now, my questions-"

"Ah, yes, yes, yes. But first, what about Simon and Garfunkle?" Lockwood sat back in his chair, folding his hands. We were facing one another and it was hard not to show how much it was killing me to lie about one of the things I loved. He got me there. But I didn't have to respond. George sat on the end of the table, saying his piece.

"If she didn't know the others, then do you think she knows who Simon and Garfunkle are?"

"Well, I can at least ask, now can't I?"

"I don't know, can you?" And just like that, George and Lockwood went at it. It wasn't a row, but it certainly wasn't a conversation. I sat there. listening to their voices. They resonated deep with me. Like a small, comforting hum of a heater or a vibrating pillow at night. Something that didn't obscure the silence but was still there, drumming along to its own special beat. It felt normal. It felt right.

And it was starting to scare me.

I didn't know when they stopped to look at me, but my thoughts were interrupted by a question I didn't know.

"What do you think Lucy?" I blinked at Lockwood, who had asked the question, I hadn't followed the conversation so I didn't know what topic they were on. I couldn't wait too long before answering or else I would seem deaf or slow. Thinking quickly and staying on the task of answering a foreign, non-specific, no-background-question, I went ahead and said the safest answer.

"What do you think?" well, I hadn't meant for it to become a question, but it did. Lockwood blinked as well, and George just snickered. I didn't like his tone. I didn't like his face. George Cubbins was just looking for a wailing.

"Do you have a problem?" I crossed my arms and leaned back in my chair. His glossy glasses turned in my direction. If George was amused, he sure as hell wasn't showing it and it didn't look like he was going to. His reply was short and bland.

"Yes, with your face." Again, his nonchalant and uncaring voice irritated me. My eyebrow twitched and I began to wonder how I was going to live with this oaf under the same roof. I rose from my chair, brushing whatever dust lay on my skirt.

"If you wanna go we can." George pushed his glasses up. He crossed his arms as well, mirroring me in his chair.

"Go where? Disneyland?" I was about to take a step toward him, but I was stopped by Lockwood's hand gestures and calm voice.

"Alright, alright. Let's not get carried away. We are civilized, not ruffians." I scoffed and nodded my head toward George as I spoke.

"He seems like one to me." This earned me a throat clearing from Lockwood, though I could see through his fake serious posture and expression.

"You said you had questions?" Lockwood asked, trying to derail our conversation instead of leading it further into disaster. I tried not to be sassy or snarky, so I decided to be myself. Which was the worst idea I could have picked out, out of the dozen of other choices I had swirling around the pools of my brain.

"You assumed I had questions."

My mind was hanging itself the very moment after I said it. I forgot that the real me was brash and sarcastic. My face was one of boredom, but inside I was a ticking time bomb. George didn't seem like he cared about whether or not I had questions at all. However, instead of taking it like every other person I had ever met, Lockwood responded with a bright smile.

"Well you do, don't you? So ask away." It took me a bit to process the fact that he had been nice about my response to his question. Yet the shock ebbed away as quickly as it came and I suddenly remembered my questions.

"So when does school start?" There was a pause, both boys looking at the other, talking with there eyes. After a few seconds, Lockwood answered me.

"In more or less five or six more weeks. Two months at the most." I sighed. I hadn't expected the wait to be so long. A week at the most, but two months? It would be the start of winter by the time school started. I was starting to question my bloodline and what they put me into.

"There isn't a set date?" George shook his head, suddenly interested in our conversation.

"Nope. Not unless you're a higher-up." My eyebrows slanted in confusion. Why do only higher-ups get to know? Did they have special power over us? Who even where the higher-ups?

"Then how do we know when we get to leave?" I was met with pained looks and worried stares. The once lively room seemed to flatten and still with my question. My gaze flitted from one boy to the next while they glanced from one another, then back to me, only to repeat the process. They did this several times. I grew ever more worried as time passed the three of us by in a tense silence. After what seemed like ages to my frantic mind, the brunette spoke out. I could tell he was trying to choose his words very carefully. Why he was doing so, I had yet to learn.

"Lucy... How much do you... know about this school, exactly?" I didn't know much, that was true. I had been pressed on and on about looking the place up by Mary, but I had ignored her. I remember her exact words the last time she tried to get me to find out information. _Little Sister, I'm afraid that time is running out for you to stay in your little play pretend world._ Play pretend world. I wondered what she meant by that. Maybe she was mentioning my talking to things she couldn't see. Maybe it was the fact I looked after myself, the dead, and the things I held dear (which weren't a lot, mind you). I didn't know. And the same went for what I knew about the school. I knew no more than what I was told. To me, it was a boarding school for special kids.

"Next to nothing. Why?" My question was hesitant, but I managed to get it out. Lockwood's face didn't seem all too jolly like it had not even ten minutes ago. Even George had a more serious expression than normal.

"I... I don't know how to put this..." My breathing was slow, yet my heartbeat was racing. That tone. I hated that tone. It was the tone that told me my dog died. It was that tone that Mary had whenever she broke bad news. The same one she used to explain try to explain the schooling situation two weeks ago. At that moment, I wished I had listened to Mary about what I was going into. Now I was here. Now there was this nervous, strained, and pained tone in Lockwood's voice. My head was beginning to hurt and my stomach began to bubble. I felt the need to barf slink its way up my throat.

"This... This is home."

* * *

 **A/N: I am soooo Sorry about the wait! A thousand apologies and I mean every one of them. I could give you all dozens of excuses but alas, I am not going to bother anyone with those. I thought about bringing in recent events into the story, just to see how each character would react to the situations. I am not going to get into politics, but the weather and a few collateral events will be a factor I will add in. I am going to base the story in our time just to save some research, but no doubt I am going to have to keep up with happenings in the U.K. And I am still up for any song suggestions or requests!**

 **I have decided also to post a weekly update on my profile page, just to keep everyone updated and to let everyone know where their favorited story is at while In-progress. Finished stories may or may not get added chapters due to popularity or an extream amount of views/reviews.**

 **I am going to finish writing the Halloween bit that I am making for the Company. It's not going to be too Locklyle heavy, but It will have Locklyle and Flubbins, for sure. It'll be set after TEG and Despite my early release on it, will be during Halloween. So if you wanna read it, check the date on my Profile and I'll have it in by then!**

 **And now, a small tidbit of what is to come...**

* * *

Every store seemed to be Jampacked with different designs. Afterall, It was the first Halloween since the Problem had ended and the Curfew was lifted. The colors and the Gore seemed to be marketed on every window front, doorway, and even some of the buildings themselves were decorated for the festivities. To me, it seemed like all of London was out celebrating. As I walked down the streets of Central London with the gang, I couldn't help but be fascinated by the spirit in every single person roaming the streets. Everything was so lively, everyone so kind, it seemed to me that if anything were to go wrong, it wouldn't be enough to break these peoples' bright smiles. Even Kipps was wearing a smile of his own.

Granted it looked more like a small snarl than a large smile, but he was trying.

Holly squealed with delight and ripped my arm away from Lockwood's. "Lucy! Look over there!" and just like that, I was being dragged through central London. All the colors blinding me and blurring into one big mess. I would have thrown up if I wasn't laughing and trying to run at her pace.

"Lucy! Look over there!" and just like that, I was being dragged through central London. All the colors blinding me and blurring into one big mess. I would have thrown up if I wasn't laughing and trying to run at her pace. She stopped abruptly, letting me catch my barrings before stepping into a rather dull shop that didn't look like it received many customers.

* * *

 **Shout outs to people who Reviewed the last chapter!: Ligersrcool, Demonsarelife, Kooot, and BookProtector!**

 **Ligers: Thank you for the input, I will be sure to try and fix the spacing as I go along.**

 **Demonsarelife: I totally agree. I am making it so Lucy likes most Genres, but I won't make her an angsty teen either. I am definitely gonna add some older music to the tastes of this country bumkin**

 **BookProtector: Thank you so much! I tried to get the house detailing as close as I could without copying to what I re-re-re-read in the first book. And thank you for the song! I have listened to it over and over and I think it is a really good fit for Lucy.**

 **Thank You so Much for Reading and Stay Tuned!**

 **~Pheonix**


	4. Being Alone Leads to Late Nights

**Chapter 4: Being Alone Leads to Late Nights**

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It had been a week since I had heard the news about never getting out of this insane asylum. It was also a full week that I had been holed up in my new room, only opening the door for food. I painted, I drew, I wrote, and I talked. Mostly to myself, but also to the skull. My only company for the first two days. But only the first two days. With each meal, came a bright smile attached to them. I made a point not to open my door more than a foot, wide enough to grab the metal food tray, but small enough so that neither of my new flatmates could see inside.

The first few days didn't amount to much, just refusing to get out of bed until they brought me food or in the dead of night when I got tired of the room. I spent the time I didn't sleep thinking and looking up at the ceiling. The perfect, taken-care-of ceiling. I had a lot to get used to, so I figured the ceiling was the first place to start my journey. Next, I knew I had to get used to my surroundings, meaning the room. So I'd sit up in my bed for the evening and look around. I found several things those days. Here were the main few: the bottom of my wardrobe on the inside was higher than the bottom of the piece itself, a small square opening just beside said furniture, the window had a latch, and there was a trapdoor on the floor just before the window. However, I didn't investigate any of these findings when nightfall came. Instead, I went on a quest for food.

These quests were very short-lived, however. Lockwood always came down, about 2 PM, but left back to his room soon after. Least, that's what I thought he did. I didn't pay much attention to where he was going more than I was staying hidden from his view. Turns out that George is a very heavy sleeper with snoring issues while Lockwood was a rather light sleeper. How they got along together boggled my mind. They were complete opposites of each other. One a rather dull creampuff while the other was a bright snowflake. I doubted I would ever see a pair like them walking through London, but it wasn't impossible. Just rare that two polar forces could work well as a unit. Then again, if the skull and I could get along, then maybe it wasn't that rare...

Anyways, back to my nights. Aside from not getting caught, I had an easy time finding snacks in the cupboards above the countertops. I didn't stay out of my room long though. Only a few hours or so. Avoiding Lockwood was a piece of cake, but too much night wandering could let me get attached to this place. I needed to stay detached, find a way to get out. I wasn't going to be a prisoner here for long, I just had to find a way to get out of the 'school grounds' long enough to find a road. But I needed a map or an atlas, some navigational system. I could tell we weren't out of the UK, that much was a given to due to murky weather and terrain, I just needed to know which way to go. And I knew exactly where I was going. London.

Cliche, yes, but it was my only known option. It was the only place my family would never look for me. They hated the city, with all its lights and street configurations. I, on the other hand, found it no different than a passing period in lower secondary school. Loud, noisy, and, if you kept to yourself, not such a bad place to be. I had actually dreamed of living in a place like London or maybe cross the Atlantic and study abroad for a long, long while. Maybe even stay there. As far away as I could get from home, where the only bright light was my elder sister.

That Friday was different. After I was brought my morning tray by Lockwood, thanked him, and closed the door, I heard the footsteps leave my door. I waited a moment or two, just until the footsteps were halfway before beginning to eat. What I failed to notice was how the footsteps stopped and turned back to the door, before stopping again at the door. What I did hear was the small rattle of the door almost like someone was leaning against it. It hadn't been long since the tray was brought, a few seconds maybe, so I thought it was just wind hitting the door. _That's right, wind._

Oh, how wrong I was to think that.

"New leader in Zimbabwe, quite a controversial subject. They've labeled him a tyrant, but I don't know all the facts, so what's the point of believing one source, am I right?" I had almost choked on the muffin and jam I was brought. I didn't say anything, (even though I agreed) stunned by the fact he was just outside my door. I heard him turning a delicate, recycled page, and again, he started talking. His voice flowed, reciting the information with vigor and finesse. I don't know why or when, but as he talked I got out my paints and a canvas, setting it down on the windowsill and painted. His effortless reading driving my brush across the blank white canvas. I didn't know when he left, nor did I know why I picked up the brush in the first place. But when I stopped, I had created a dabbed a scene I had never seen before. Well, I had yet I hadn't. It didn't surprise me in the least, but what did surprise me was the accurateness of the colors, even though I had only seen the outside of it once.

Leaving it on the sill, I stepped back to take it in. It was raining in the picture and most likely evening. I hadn't used a lot of colors, mostly greys and whites. However, there were a few exceptions, like green garden hangers on the windowsills and even a red scarf. In the image there was a child, looking up at a quaint house in the middle of the London. Though not just any house. I shook my head and set the painting aside. I was not going to start this, not now. It was bad enough that I used to do this at home when Mary used to talk to me, so I certainly needed to knock the habit out of my system for the better.

Yet as I put the painting in the dark, farthest corner from the door, I began to wonder about Lockwood and the child in the picture. Why was the child just standing there instead of going inside the nice warm-looking house?

* * *

The second week passed, but gradually, I began talking to him. Sometimes even George would join us in our formal, morning or evening, banters about the news. We would have conversations about the morning news, them, behind the door, and I, with my brush in hand. so far I had painted four others and sketched another. The sketch was of the same house in the first painting, yet in a different setting. Still London, that was for sure, yet there wasn't just a child. Now there was a family, of four it looked like. The scene was merry and bright, no rain shown.

Yet the child in the red scarf remained in the same position as the first painting.

The others canvases were jolly as well. They all incorporated the same family, the same coats, the same child with the solid colored garment. One was of a picnic. The other was horseback riding. The third was the child running into a legion of seagulls flapping his arms, the scarf trailing behind him. The family watched, what I assumed was, contently, but all I could see were the smiles on there faces. I had painted the birds and a few feathers over their eyes. Why I didn't know.

I had found that when I painted, I lose track of what I am doing. I don't think about what I am painting, I just... do it. Sometimes the inspiration to paint will vanish for months, other times I feel as if I had to use page after page after page of paper just to fit in everything my hand wanted to draw. The scary thing was, I never drew the same thing twice, and nothing I drew was meaningless. Yet Painting was primarily more terrifying than drawing. The paintings seemed more realistic, more like memories or dreams.

But they weren't mine.

"Lucy, you still there?" I shook my head as if to momentarily snap myself from my thoughts.

"Yes, of course. You were talking about the terror plot, right? Very scary and they caught the guy?" I could hear a small sigh and a rustle of papers. The skull on my dresser was chuckling, and I knew it had not been the top of the conversation.

"That was the topic several minutes ago, currently I was on a volcano evacuation, which is rather alarming in its own right." Another rustle could be heard. "are you alright? you've been in there for days." I bit my lip. To be quite fair, I had been out several times at night and had left the room to take much-needed baths in the rather small (but large enough) tub. Then again, it wouldn't be bad if I left for a few. I pinched my arm and cursed quietly for even thinking about leaving the room. The room was safe, I didn't need to leave. I'd only get hurt by the thing outside the door. The person who has been begging to come inside.

I looked over to the skull, it still perched on the dresser, staring at me with its all-knowing look. I saw it begin to mouth the words of _I Told You So and that is not just the name of a Paramore song_ before dematerializing and leaving me to deal with the problem that was an inquiring Lockwood. Then again, I could at least give the boy an answer.

"I'm fine and dandy, enjoying the view." Of course, I wasn't even looking out the window. No, instead I did something foolish. I decided to lean back against the door and slide to the floor. I could hear the faint breaths of Lockwood on the other side as I brought my knees up to my chest and ugged them. My chin did a balancing act on one of my knees as I got comfy and waited for his response.

"Enjoying the view, Huh? well, It is quite a spectacular site at sundown on the winter solstice. The sun hits the mountain peaks just right, and it seems like the night just sparkles and glows for the rest of the evening. Then again, not something that could be put into words exactly." This intrigued me. I suppose it gave me something to look forward to in my times here. The winter solstice. Not too long of a wait, but a lot can happen in that time.

"What about the summer solstice?" I could hear a distant chuckle rumble from beyond the wooden wall between us. I didn't know why, but a smile began to play on my lips. A small, itty bitty one, but it was present, nonetheless.

"Well, the summer solstice carries the exact opposite feeling. The winter is so cold the light seems to sparkle and scatter, like glitter when you blow hard enough to send it flying across the room." He paused for a second and added a small cough, "-Not that I have ever done that before- bit the summer is the exact opposite to the winter solstice. It's so blazing that the light begins to take on a new appearance to match. To be fair, I rather enjoy the summer view than the winter, but it is equally as extraordinary to see." It didn't take me long to picture both scenes in my mind, the same view is seen yet different feelings felt for each separate occurrence. If I wasn't intrigued before, I certainly was now.

"It sounds quite fascinating, I'd love to see it one day." Though the more I thought about what I said, the more silly it sounded to me. To see either of these natural peculiarities, I'd need to stay here longer than I intend. I wanted to be gone by the time school started and I was going to stick to my plan.

"Well, to do this, you would have to plan in advance. Get some snacks, drinks, a chair perhaps." Where on earth was Lockwood going with this? Then, his voice dropped, fading on the last word a bit. "But you can't do that if you never come out of that room." His voice was soft, softer than any other person in my past. Yet the silenced that followed wasn't uncomfortable like I had hoped it would be, just so I could give into my own logic in staying consumed with my fears. But it wasn't, in fact, it was anything but. I hesitated. Perhaps I waited far longer to give him an answer than he was willing to wait. I could feel the pressure that pushed against the door to keep the equilibrium between us dissipate and footsteps sauntering away. Pressing my ear against the door, I could hear a tiny sigh before he continued to head down the hall and ascend the stairs.

I didn't feel bad about not answering, but I didn't feel any good about it either.

So I kept painting. All the while thinking of boys that sighed down hallways and the one who chased after birds.

He didn't visit that afternoon like I hoped, neither did George nor did the skull. My head began to swirl like a spinning roulette wheel, begging me to place my bets to try to win big. My stomach wasn't faring very well either, sharp pangs hitting me in tempo with each other. I longed to talk to someone, or see something new and in my lonely state, I found only three things to be true. I should opt to buy more casual clothing, ghosts can cheat at poker, and I needed to get out of this house, if not forever then just for a moment. The sudden tugging on my chest began to throb as I glanced around the room, spotting no one yet wanting someone. Usually, back at home, this would happen while I was in my room some nights. What I used to do then was flee to Mary's room, then everything went away. The thoughts, pains, premonitional sketches; all gone so long as I was with someone. But maybe it wasn't people I needed. No, all I needed was fresh air. That's what it was. Lack of fresh Oxygen to the brain can make you think funny things and see funny things, so maybe that's it.

But how in the world was I going to do that without being noticed?

I contemplated just staying in the room, waiting out my irrational thoughts. Yet something drew me to the door, at the sound of the last door closing on the landing underneath me. Some yearning need that drove me to walk to the door also led my hand to the iron knob, twisting it slowly till it refused to turn any further. It only took me a few seconds before the door was fully open, begging me to step through the hole in the wall into the dark hallway with nothing but my eyes to guide me. My feet took my body through the passageway, yet it didn't quite register with my thoughts. my hand didn't leave the walls as I walked, not thinking, but not dreaming. The stairs were a bit difficult to navigate at night, but I was able to pass the second landing soundlessly. I skipped the bottom step and made it to the main floor. The still air was broken by my soft breaths as I crossed the living room. One last hallway to clear and I'd be at the door.

As I reached the said door, my hand delicately placed on the handle, my mind woke up. I found that I had no clue what I was doing, what I was planning, nor what I wanted. All I do remember was a smile crossing my features, mind perfectly blank, before I felt the cold air nip at my nose and send shivers down my spine. Though I doubted it was the cold air that sent the shivers, I pawned it off as the air's fault in my mind. Better than assuming there was something creeping around this house. As I stepped out into the night, I realized I only wore my nightie and undergarments. I smiled, not caring about the night air.

My body began to acclimate to the breezy night air instantly as I walked down the path, out the gate, and toward the courtyard. My feet, bare on the ground, felt the blades of grass, that had gone untouched for years, being crushed with each of my steps. My breaths were not visible, but I breathed as if they were. on the close horizon, I could see bright, sparkling figures under the moonlight, begging me to go chase them.

So that's just what I did.

With a bright grin plastered onto my features, I ran and ran toward the awnings with flowers all around and spectors dancing about them. I ran into my lungs hurt. I ran until I was crying, only small tears that I could not register why they fell at the time. I ran until I finally was able to reach out and touch one of the floating spectral figures. So close... A simple toe lift and my hand would phase through the cytoplasm of the joyous dead woman. She laughed with who I assumed was a close friend or significant other of hers. A touch and I could feel her. Just a touch...

Just a touch and I'd disrupt her happiness, something that didn't exist normally the world around me. I longed to feel her ectoplasmic dress that didn't exist to anyone except for me. As quickly as I reached out, my hand recoiled. I couldn't do that to her. See, the thing with the spectors is that unless they are disrupted, they are put on a constant loop inside the realms of their own world. They don't even realize that they cross into our world unless they are disturbed. Once out of their bubble, they are a bit disoriented at first, which could cause psychic anomalies, such as a storm, animal stampedes, even minor tremors in the earth where no tectonic plates lie. Basically, psychic anomalies were unexplainable natural occurrences. Afterward, they would always be aware of the world they never thought they could go back to. They would haunt the place and relive their past lives with no regards to their comrades. The man with her could still be laughing, thinking she was there, but she would never be happy laughing with him again. She would never have a smile done her warm features if she was 'awoken'. It's just how things went. The skull hadn't minded since it was alone and was already a conscious being, to begin with. Her, however...

It would have been one of my biggest regrets of my time in DEPRAC if I had touched her.

I don't know how much time I spent staring at them as they lived in loops, silent tears falling as I gazed at the beautiful, dancing figures. Some looping every minute, others seconds, and a few who went on for hours before replaying their actions. Children laughing, singing, and playing like normal kids do. Adults hanging out without a care in their world. I watched them and studied them till my eyes hurt and my toes and fingers grew numb in the wet, icy grass. I could feel the edges of my nightie that had been soaked by the grass and dirtied by the floor. I sat on the ground for a long, undisturbed by man and his machines.

That was until I began to hear footsteps coming from down the road.

In my fear, my concentration broke. The lights flickered on and off, dimming in voltage until they were no more. All that was left was the shadows of the wooden arches, moonlit flowers, and the gazebo with its rusty red awning. Quickly, I hid deep within the brushes of the undergrowth, flowers covering my body but not my field of vision. I held my breath, waiting for the oncoming footsteps to recede. Only my eyes moved while the pounding noise against the dirt ensued. My tears were gone, and heart racing in slight fear at getting caught. I still had no idea what the rules of this place were, so I didn't know if there was a curfew no one was allowed to break. But maybe they would cut me slack for being new?

I cursed at myself mentally for thinking such a low thought. I wasn't even going to risk being caught out at night, even if it was allowed. I waited, not long, but for what felt like ages before I was a figure. It was most certainly a man, but not one I had seen before. He was tall, square shoulders, but other than that, I could not make out any physical nor facial features I could identify. All except for his shoes. A leather, heel, fancy dance shoe. I may have come from a poor family, but I had always admired the rich from afar.

He stopped for a moment, looking around. My breathing hitched as he seemed to glance over to my direction. I remember briefly seeing reddish eyes before they looked ahead. Heal clicks I hadn't even heard were coming this way made themselves know on the gazebo floor. The woman who owned the Prada shoes was curvy but not robust. She seemed very agile yet her age showed through her movements. However, like the man, I could see nothing else but the silhouette and the shoes. They talked in hush voices throughout their small conversation. I could barely hear them and I was closer than anyone else around. The words 'New' and 'powerful' repeated themselves across their lips.

And just like that, the woman began to walk the other way.

The man, however, stayed behind. I felt my hands clench into fists as I waited. He sniffed sharply and continued walking past the gazebo where I lie in the tendrils and vines and down the long, dark road. Heading toward the house at the end of all of the other houses. Again, I waited for what seemed like ages before I deemed the night safe again. Coming out of the flora, I slunk back to the house of Lockwood and George. All the while thinking about the few words I had heard. I couldn't tell anyone about what I had seen. Not even George or Lockwood.

If I did, they would know I had left in the middle of the night in my nightgown barefoot to go watch ghosts be happy in the afterlife.

And where on Earth does that sentence seem normal coming out of ones mouth?

* * *

 **A/N: I apologize for the late chapter, I have not forgotten to update, things have just been crazy with school and home that I have been finding time to write hard. I am not dead either, and this update was extremely late. I am so sorry for the delay. I will begin to explain less and less and the chapters go on to keep mystery in the chapters. In this one, however, I cannot give anything out. You'll just need to keep reading.**

 **Update: Ok, you all win, I will make a fourth, maybe fifth, chapter for The One Thing I can't Live Without. Just give me time since I hadn't expected it to keep going.**

 **Thank You for Reading and Stay Tuned!**

 **~Pheonix**


	5. Don't Let Me Talk When I am Sick

**Don't Let me Talk When I am Sick.**

* * *

Let it be known that staying up late in the freezing weather will eventually give you a cold; I had certainly acquired one. I despised colds for one simple reason. The fact that, during the few times I was under the weather, I became prone to say anything that came to mind (things I usually would have never discussed otherwise). I rather enjoyed keeping matters close to my chest, not because I was shy or secretive, but because it seemed much safer than throwing myself into tanks of sharks. It gives you more cards to play, despite how many cards you have, and more surprises to release when the time calls for it.

On that morning the next day, a knock sounded at the door at the very same moment I awoke. My mind was blanker than a canvas, but I spoke clearly.

"Yes?" From beyond the door came a melodious voice. I'm not sure why I felt it was so, but nevertheless, the sound of it rang in my ears and I smiled a tiny bit. It felt like a dream, even though I knew I was awake. Yet, no matter the perplexity of my mental situation, I still found solace in a familiar vocal pitch which I assumed, in my tired state, was Lockwood. My eyes were open, my mind was dazed, my lips curling further on both sides of my face.

"It's almost noon, I was wondering if you wanted lunch? You didn't respond to Lockwood before he left so I thought I'd ask again just in case." Again, my mouth spoke before my mind did, not quite registering what 'Lockwood' had said.

"Sure. Sounds swell." My voice was a bit slurred and I can't remember if I imagined or heard it, but I thought I had heard a small noise of confusion. Like he hadn't been expecting that answer at all. I claim myself lucky that that night I had dressed in regular clothes due to the fact my nightgown was wet and I hadn't brought any other pajamas. In my random train of sick thought, I wondered if I would ever get chance to buy new clothes. Slowly, I got out of bed, making it out of habit, and went to the door. My room wasn't a mess, thank goodness, but I didn't check before I had opened the door. I opened it wider than usual, the door swinging open about halfway before it stopped, rubbing my eyes a bit as it did so. When I opened them again, I met with the rimmed glasses of George and not the expected smile of Lockwood. His face was still stone-like and bland, making him look like a boy in old-timey photos. Sure it hurt to smile for ten minutes, standing rigid, but they always looked so depressed and drab. His eyebrows crinkled as he noticed my expression go sour.

"Are you alright? You look rather dead"

I wanted to assure him I was perfectly fine, but not even milliseconds before I was going about to utter that sentence, the need to vomit struck my throat. I dashed, lunging toward the bathroom. My hand was held to my mouth in an attempt to slow the process down. I shouldered George on my way there and hit the doorway with my other shoulder, but made it with just enough time to slump to my knees. As I hugged the bowl like a friend, my guts were squeezed out of me in slow heaves. I felt a hand rubbing my back, but it hardly registered as my innards were poured out into the porcelain funnel. God, if I wasn't dying, I wished I was. I swear it felt like one of the worst moments of my life.

After I was done hurling, I moved to the sink and rinsed my mouth with water. I still felt a bit hot, but as I brushed my teeth, my arm working on autopilot, I didn't notice it at first. The toilet flushed next to me and I jumped. Ghosts can't flush a toilet! Yet as I looked over, I finally acknowledged George's presence beside me and guilt immediately followed. He looked slightly worried, minutely-genuinely worried. I hadn't even given him the time of day to get to know him, nor Lockwood. But I had my reasons. I knew that. Reasons neither of them knew. And they wouldn't know them. Hopefully, never know.

 _"Rethinking things?"_ The voice was faint, but that raspy voice would be forever etched in my memory. But right now, I wasn't looking for spectral company, quite the opposite actually. While George remained stoically baffled, I growled and barked toward my room, leaving the door wide open in my wake. It was bright inside my new, comfortable pad.

"Oh, shut up! Now is not the bloody time." I stood in the doorway of my relatively new room, forgetting George was right behind me. How I remember the events that transpired after this, I have no clue, but nonetheless, I remember it in grave detail. I sauntered to my bed as the skull blasted back his retort, not really caring about the sentences that flung from his mouth.

 _"I think this is a perfect time. You're as sick as a dog with mange and the only time you think rationally is when you are just that. I haven't spoken since yesterday and this is how I am greeted? If I was alive, I would be offended."_

"but your not alive." I deadpanned. His face contorted, relaxed, and griped.

 _"But I am still offended!"_ His ectoplasmic shouts were ringing in my ears and they didn't like it. Not one teensy weensy bit.

"And what do I care? You'll simply vanish again and leave me stuck here in the living world once you're done shouting! You can go anywhere and see anything you please, and I am stuck here to sift through one hell of a life. At least you can get escape!" I screamed at the skull with every fiber of my being, seething into a blanked-out rage that I didn't think I possessed in my current state. Sure I was ranting, but I had never seen the skull so mad. Nor so hurt. He looked almost human and for a moment, I forgot I had been yelling at a ghost confined to a skull as his only way of seeing my world

 _" At least You get to have a full life! You know where I go isn't sunshine and roses! It's more messed up than your predicament is! You think I didn't feel the out-of-place darkness in this place too? The obvious feeling that something isn't right? I've got to hand it to you kid, I know you are full of emotion, but I would never have thought you would start acting like your arse of a mother!"_ Even with my fury, I felt my blood run cold. I saw his face. The ectoplasmic crinkles, that possessed the human bones and gave them life, shone nothing but a struck child. He would have looked like a kicked puppy if he would have been shot more through the non-existent heart he had. I couldn't say anything. I couldn't think anything. My body just went limp onto the bed. I couldn't speak, I couldn't sleep, I couldn't even think. My body resting in limbo as I thought about what the skull said. The ghost still hadn't disappeared, so I knew that I wasn't the only one regretting what I had said.

It must have been seconds rather than hours, however for I heard a cough at the door. I didn't want to look. I knew what I would find. But I was only delaying the inevitable. So slowly, I faced the only person around to hear that ridiculous banter between a girl and her skull. And Regrettably, I found George there, staring at the bowl with wide eyes, flashing from the skull (who was sticking its tongue out) and back at me.

"This a bad time?"

I groaned in frustration.

* * *

It took me a while to pry him from the skull, without touching him of course. If I did that the effects would only last longer. I tried as best as I could, battling three things at once: a butt-hurt skull, George, and trying not to touch George. That's pretty hard to balance if you ask me. Eventually, I succeeded, ending up with George staring at me from the window sill. At first, it just seemed like an endless staring contest, but after a bit, George finally moved and pushed up his glasses. Much to my chagrin, I still couldn't see his eyes.

"So, may I ask questions as to what I just saw?"

"you may-" He opened his mouth to speak, "but you are not guaranteed an answer."

He didn't smile, not even a chuckle. He just responded in his normal, no-care attitude.

"Still as frigid as the day we met, I see. Tell me, Ice queen, do you enjoy being conceited?"

"As much as you enjoy being vexatious."

"I quite like myself as I come."

"And I happen to enjoy myself just as much, thank you." He grunted a bit, almost growling, but I hadn't a care in the world as to tell what kind of sound he made. Well, maybe I would have, but in this situation and at the time, I didn't. Why should I care what he thinks of me? He didn't seem like he'd take me seriously, but he obviously had questions so I thought I may as well indulge him for a few. He leaned on the door frame, staring at me with his arms crossed.

"So, you can see dead people." His voice was flat as if it was just a fact he wanted restating. I didn't see the apparent humor of using a 90's American movie reference.

"No." I thought for a moment while he raised an eyebrow. "Well, That's not exactly what I can't do." _I think_ I added silently in my head after my response.

"Then what can you do?"

"I... don't know," I replied hesitating, but straight to the point and frustrated (however not at him this time). "I honestly don't know what it is I do, but all I know is that it involves people who don't exist in this world anymore and souls." I. honestly, didn't know what I was capable of. Maybe I could go to this "Other Side" I had been lectured on so many times and visit the skull? I didn't know what I was capable of, nor did I want to find out. I had a few fears, back then, but a major one was myself. I was deathly afraid of what I could possibly do and it was all because of that stupid accident.

"Interesting... so that's why they put you here." George turned on his heel and headed downstairs. I blinked a few times. Processing the foreshadowed information before going after George in a hurry. I hollered at him from the hallway, making my way to the stairs George had disappeared down in such a rush. He could have rivaled sound in speed.

"Wait a minute! What do you mean by that-" Suddenly, a flash of light and warmth blurred my vision. I braced myself against a wall, but it didn't do much to help my aching head. As luck would have it, I hadn't even started going down the stairs. Slowly, I descended the stairs (jumping over the last step and landing with a dancer's grace) and followed the plump hurricane that was hoofing it to the library.

Now, I had only been inside the library once before during the tour, but It wasn't as large as it was now. Now there even seemed to be large, pine doors with carvings etched into the wood, depicting ghosts and swords. Even a few angels. I took my time entering, staring in awe. Proscenium arches ran along the rows, stretching three, maybe four stories high. I didn't understand how such a large library could fit inside a house smaller than its size! Books ran along each shelf from end to end, squished together. Leather bound books, paperback, hardback, manuscripts, papers hole punched and strung together. Hardwood flooring let out a sound as I padded along after him, almost getting lost in the rows. Some books were as long as my arm while others looked more like a newspaper strip. The room even smelled different than before. I was amazed.

But my curiosity about what the donut had said intrigued me more than the massive amounts of books that were now at my fingertips.

I shook my head to clear it and followed after him, dodging a few book stacks in my wake. I struggled to keep up. Man, was he fast for a donut eating piglet. But in my strides, I was unaware of how much energy I was using and where I was going. And I certainly didn't see George on the floor, bending down so much that it seemed like to much skin was showing. I wish it would have been in slow motion, just so I could tell myself what a great job I did on watching where I was going. I am glad I do not remember the initial fall, as I would have remembered George's bent-over backside, but what I do remember was how much it hurt when I hit the library carpet floor. There was a grunt that came from the piglet.

 _Is it possible to dislike someone this much in just two weeks?_

"You must be blinder then I am."

 _...the answer is yes, it is very much possible._

Slightly angered, I got up from my spot on the velvet carpet -more like a huge runner on the hardwood floors- and rubbed my aching behind. I bit my lip to suppress a groan that wished to come out, but for some unknown reason, I felt the need to show no sense of vulnerability. Lucy Carlyle never showed pain. My stomach felt like it wanted to hurl again, my head was aching badly, and my hands were shaking badly. My knees were wobbly, barely able to keep my weight off the ground. But I needed to know why this curly fry haired boy ran in such a flurry. He knew something. And I needed to know what It was. Screw my cautiousness.

I watched George as he flipped through, what appeared to be, a common leather-bound book. It was black, with a few scratched along the spine, and a small emblem on the front of it. Cautiously, I peered over George's shoulder. He didn't seem to mind, but it was hard to tell as he was to busy. He pulled two more books off the shelves. He paid no attention to the first one he picked up but instead chose the third. It seemed rather large, but as George flipped through it, I saw that only half of the book was filled, a giant ink blob plastered on the last page. My pain and sickness and oddly subsided, not that I had paid much attention to it in the first place. George stayed on the last page, just looking at it. I couldn't see his face from where I stood, only the last page, which only held a large splatter of black substance and the phrase:

 _\- she died._

He gulped and turned his head toward me. I stared back, perplexed. I cursed mentally at his glasses, constantly hiding his eyes. He seemed a bit paler then he had a few minutes ago, but I was unsure whether that was him, or a trick of the mind. His perspiration accumulated in masses on his shirt collar. He was nervous, I think. Either that or spooked by something. I think he found what he was looking for, but it didn't look like the answer had satisfied him one bit. He fidgetted for a few seconds and made a noise equivalent to a squeaky boot on linoleum tiles. Not a loud sound, but it was uttered, nonetheless. I pointed to the book with my hand and nodded my head in the same direction.

"What book is that?" He stared at me for a long while, not saying a single word. His face paled further.

"You can see this book? This place?" I was confused about what he meant. What did he mean by could I see it? Of course, I could! how could I not see the white marble pillars, nor the velveteen runners and polished oak floors? The black stained bookcases that towered over their heads with thousands of books filling the empty space in their sturdy shelving. The smell of paper and leather and dust littering the air. The dim lamp that hung over their heads as one stood and the other stared perplexingly.

"Yeah, Missy Piggy, I can." There was a sound of choking, probably on his own spit, and a grumble. Slowly, he rubbed his temples in irritation. But even as he spoke, he was hesitant. He was shaking, ever so slightly. I couldn't fathom why. I just wanted a simple answer.

"You're not supposed to. At all. This is both a nuisance and very very disturbing." I don't know how, but even in my sick mind, it clicked.

The library was a different plane of existence only he could see. Like a pocket of space only to be accessed by one person. A separate dimension in a separate time in a distant spot in the universe. I remembered when the skull told me about pockets like these, but I had never exactly believed him.

The long hallways that spanned meters longer and the large entrance doors, the skyscraping bookshelves and the plethora of books that filled the void with color: they were not in our natural existence on Earth. None of these dimensions, none of these pages, none of the smells, actually subsisted. They only existed to one person. One single person who had never had anyone else with him to see the wonders of his other-worldly palace. Who knows how many years he spent alone, everyone believing he was nuts?

How lonely could this boy have been?

"So this is something I shouldn't be seeing?" I don't know why I restated the obvious, but I was a bit ashamed of myself at the time. All I did since I had gotten there was assume that neither of them had similar pains in their past. Had I sized him up too quickly? _Them_ up too quickly? It was entirely possible-

"Not without my permission, no." He put the books back on the shelf, getting up and straightening himself. Though, it wasn't like he could be straightened much with those clothes of his. A vein throbbed in my forehead. Figures that I would jump the gun and empathize before I knew the situation. _Nice going, Lucy._ But there are worse fates than getting something wrong. I never really was that good with emotions back then, aside from my own (though I still had a tough time controlling those).

"So you can...regulate them? Your... abilities, I mean."

"Of course. Can't you?"

"If I could, then you wouldn't have seen Skull." He kept staring. The only thing he was capable of apparently.

"You named it?" I shrugged at his comment.

"It still refuses to tell me its name, so I improvised." There was silence. A long pause in which we questioned everything we knew and how we came to be in that spot, in those moments, at the time we did. A quiet that tore apart ever thought we had ever had and given them new life, new meaning. A stillness so incomprehensible, that we neither recognized nor realized its presence among us until it was gone.

And in that silence, a small bit of understanding.

Here I was with no control over anything I could do, nor see. And here was an extremely intelligent teen who had answers to the things I wanted to know most. He had his own questions I could answer. One could help the other comprehend what was happening and vice versa. All we needed was get along for an hour or two (if we even had that long). He pushed up his glasses. I could finally see his eyes.

They were light blue, plagued with ghosts from both the past... and the present. They were not cold, as I had once thought, but so careful. They were forever thinking, forever calculating. They were the eyes of someone who had seen so many horrible happenings that he took extra precautions so he would never have to experience the pains those other people did. They were soft, yet knew so much horror. Needless to say, he caught me off guard. His facial color had returned, thankfully, but I didn't really care about that. He knew things I had yet to understand. Things I needed to learn if I was to survive what was coming to me. I needed his help.

Whether I liked it, or not.

"We both have questions we want answers to." His voice broken the string of quiet that hung in the air between us. I nodded in agreement. "Luckily, Lockwood isn't here to stop us from receiving them." His sentence struck me as odd. Lockwood was capable of many things, I knew this even then. But why keep me from a truth I was bond to discover anyways? Did he not think I was fitted to be there like he had preached before? I didn't voice my thoughts, though I could feel them rising in my throat. I nodded again, not trusting my own voice. He sighed, and took steps toward the door, shuffling as he went by. He stopped next to me but didn't face me as he stared at the door leading to the hallway beside the stairs. The blue gaze making me silently shudder.

"It's high time you got them."

He continued out the door, leaving me to follow him. I didn't see it, but at the time I was following him, everything shrunk. Condensing into the normal library I had seen before in my tour and nightly outings. Everything was so confusing, so curiously dangerous and after three weeks I was getting at least some type of answers. Yet I didn't even get out the doorway before my fever had taken control. I hadn't felt it getting worse, but oh, it had. The heat blinded my vision once again and I stumbled. The floor hurt. I could barely hear George say my name along with a door opening before I was fast asleep. This time, on the cold linoleum floors of the kitchen, with no means of waking up any time soon and two teens with hardly any tools to help me. But still, as I would learn later from Lockwood, a small smile was present on my face as he scolded George and carried me back upstairs.

Leave it to me to pass out at the most inopportune moments.

* * *

When I woke, I wasn't surprised to find Lockwood there, sitting on a chair beside me. It must have been the one he brought up during the few days he talked to me. His eyes were softly shut, his eyelashes moving rapidly as he dreamed. His soft lips slightly parted as they glistened from the light that came from the bedside lamp. His hair falling over his eye and nose, cheeks full of life as they reflected the beams. His face was so innocent, so peaceful, I didn't even want to move for fear of disturbing him. His limbs lay limp at his sides. He was dressed in a button up white shirt and dress pants. His dress shoes tired tightly to his feet, all professional like.

I won't say it didn't look good on him, quite the opposite and he seemed rather comfortable. But something about the way he was now versus how he held himself when he was awake was very different. Awake, he seemed to be all pep and bounce, waiting for the next adventure that lay around the corner. Yet when he was asleep, he looked calm, content with his life, while also showing signs of scars left on him by others. However, his body seemed to glow unnaturally both awake and asleep.

The night had settled nicely in the attic room where we resided. I watched him with my perpetual curiosity while he dreamt.

I felt better then I had earlier, certainly much better. The fever had receded, thank god, and I wondered if it had to do with the cold compress that resided on the bedside table. A medicine bottle rested beside it, a spoon teetering on top of it. A kettle and two cups were there as well; one used and the other clean. My eyes brightened as I took the non-used cup from its spot. I crossed my fingers as I picked up the kettle, hoping that the tea was warm, or if there was any left at all. My luck gave me a pass for the day as I poured the cup, finding it was both relatively full and warm. I wasn't going to question where or how it got to be up here, just drink it. As I sipped, I found that I was actually very thirsty. I sipped and sipped, sitting up on my bed as quietly as I could. I was glad I didn't get a creaky mattress. Eventually, the pot ran out of tea to drink. Once it did, I lay back down and stared at Lockwood in thought.

There was something about the way he slept. The way he rested. He was and looked peaceful, but there was something there that I couldn't pinpoint. It unnerved me, intrigued me, in a way. Lockwood's head tilted to the side ever so slightly and his heels connected while his knees spread apart. His lips curving downward with the smallest kink imaginable. His face no longer seemed peaceful, but so restless that ever emotion blurred into what one would assume to be peaceful. He looked... He looked...

Broken.

So incredibly defeated.

Like he had nothing to lose.

At some point in the night, he began to twitch. Just his finger, rising and lifting only fractions of inches. Then a tiny jerk of his hand. His lip quivered and his eyebrows knotted in the center. My eyes widened a bit, as I watched, growing concerned. His breathing began to change and perspiration dotted his forehead. I wasn't afraid, but I was a bit worried. My nightmares had never been so calm, but maybe this was worse for him? I did nothing except observe. His muscles began to tense as if he was bracing himself from some force unknown to me. Lockwood's body began to slightly glow from where it rested. A lime, murky green spilling from his fingertips. Above his head, were a string of figures and symbols, all in red. I didn't know what they meant, but I didn't like the way they glowed above his head.

I bit my lip to give me some sort of courage and leaned forward. Gently, I tapped his forehead, bringing him back to reality. There was a small shock that ran through my arm and a small pause before his eyes were open and staring at me. His brown eyes bore into my own and I couldn't help but do what I'd been doing for what seemed like hours now. I stared at his confused, precocious eyes that were so dark they seemed like black holes in the universe. There was surprise inside them, but also sadness and a distant fear.

Once his mind seemed steady, I came back to Earth as well. My arm slowly retracted and I sat on my haunches, staring back at him. I heard him clear his throat a moment, and he pushed back his hair with one hand. He blinked a few times before fashing me a small smile. His composure back to the state it had been when I first met him. Defensive, yet proper. He reached for the kettle.

"It's empty if you were looking for a drink."

"Ah, got thirsty?"

"A little bit, yeah."

"...How are you feeling?"

"Better, thanks."

He sighed, noticing my obvious abstaining from a proper conversation. In turn, I just looked at him. I was... I don't know what I was, but what I do know, is that I wanted answers. Badly.

"Why were there figures above your head?" He paled, and gulped, similar to what George did earlier. Although he looked fine, there was definitely awkward tension. He hesitated and I smirked. "So Anthony Lockwood can hesitate." He chuckled and clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

"And you are full of retorts, according to George, Lucy Carlyle." His speech was airy. I smiled and he did the same. All was quiet for a bit. His tone didn't seem flustered, but he was still a bit shaken. He laughed the same way he spoke, long and drawn out in long breaths. " I'm sorry if I woke you." I giggled a bit.

"I should be the one apologizing for waking you. After all, you'd still be asleep if I hadn't." He stared at me, perplexed.

"What do you mean by that?" I sighed a bit, tired of what I had done earlier.

"When people dream, their minds can... drift, from this existence and frolick into the next. Their souls travel and see different parallel universes that they otherwise wouldn't be able to. Be it happy," I paused for a moment before continuing, letting the air accumulate, "or be it not so happy. Their souls wander the universal planes until the body is ready for them to come back down to earth. It's kinda like when you listen to a song for so long that you eventually stop listening to it and you just slip into an alternate reality for a brief moment and come back when you realize your body is still present in the universe."

His eyebrows knit in confusion as he tried to process it.

"So it's like the soul takes a mini-vacation, but eventually has to go back to work?" My smile widened to the beginnings of my cheeks. If I would have looked, I would have seen him staring in awe. I was just so excited to have someone not call me crazy for once in my life.

"Exactly! Just with a bit more finesse and mystery and less work-related, but you get the general idea." I was off my bed in an instant, pacing around the room, not out of nervousness, but out of pure excitement. Lockwood had his eyebrow raised as he watched me. I went on a mini-tangent.

"What the souls see are the dreams we have mixed in with the storage of the memories we had that day. So the dreams we have will always correspond to our events we remember unless we dream too much in which we learn nothing and then the soul gets confused and goes to an extremely random universe. It's all so real to us yet our bodies never go anywhere! Just the smallest recognition and we sling back into our bodies so fast that we-" I looked over at his stupidly grinning face. He was staring at me intently, watching very closely. I felt like slapping him, but my body just paused in place. I stood up straight and coughed. "Sorry." His chuckle was deep and throaty, and his elbows were propped on his knees and hands holding up his chin as he bent slightly.

"No, no, go on. I'm enjoying hearing you talk for once."

 _Cheeky beanstalk._

"Anyways. I don't know what I do, but according to... my very old friend, I somehow can bring souls back to reality. which is what I did with you." I stopped for a moment and sat back on the bed in front of him. He looked at me like he expected me to go on, but I didn't.

"Now your turn." He sighed again but still smiled.

"You're like a yo-yo."

"How so?"

"You can do so many amazing tricks, but you're always stuck to your string."

He got up and gestured to the spot beside me. "May I?" I nodded and let him sit down next to me. We shifted to make it more comfortable, him with one leg up on the bed and the other dangling off while I crossed my legs, waiting for his explanation. He took a deep breath, and let it go slowly.

"It's not easy to say, but above people's heads, I see a series of symbols and letters either in red or white. They are codes that I decipher. Sometimes they are symbols I know, and others I have to learn. Sometimes they are ciphers. Other times they are entire foreign languages. I had to flip through an entire Japanese character book to find the written word. The white ones are easy, but the red ones take time. Judging by your face, you want me to get to the point."

"I like learning, but you are dancing around it like a ballerina."

"I am not!"

"Shall I call you Twinkle Toes from now on?"

"Absolutely not!" We were both smiling and giggling at our own banter. Twittering like songbirds in the dead of night while everyone slept snuggly in their beds. Well,

almost everyone.

"Then get on with it!" I nudged his shoulder with my hand as we laughed. He pushed my hand away, his laugh not gone, but his expression trying to be serious.

"Alright, alright. You really want to know?" I nodded. "Okay then. Simply put, I see the date and time a person will die. The white labels I can change... But I have never been able to change a red date." Something flashed in his eyes then, the same second he talked about red labels. I had almost missed it had I not been paying attention. It was like a stone had entered his pupils and blocked everything off. For a moment, I couldn't meet his gaze. Neither could he with mine. I was beginning to dislike long awkward pauses, so I decided to continue.

"You know I have plenty more questions to ask you." Again he belted out a laugh, and like the other ones, they sounded as real as the felt to her ears. They vibrated and sent shivers down my spine as he got up from the bed and dusted himself off, shaking his head as he did so. He picked up the kettle and teacups as he talked, also tapping the spoon atop the medicine bottle cap mid-sentence.

"I'll answer them soon, but for now -remember to take a spoonful when you wake tomorrow- it's best that we get to bed. George would have a cow if he wasn't here to help." I chuckled a bit as he made his way toward the door. He smiled and reached for the handle. Again, I saw a small flash of something cross his eyes. A reflection maybe?

"Goodnight, Lucy." With that, he closed the door, leaving me alone in the room I was beginning to consider my new home. No one else there except the empty skull, a medicine bottle with a spoon beside it, and furniture. I got up from my spot on my bed and stripped off my clothes, putting on my pajamas and sitting back on my bed. I faced the window, my back against the headboard, my waist down covered by blankets. I reached over to the lamp and turned it off with a click. A small sigh escaped my lips as I sat in silence. A lonely silence. The worst of all silences one could ever endure.

You would think that after realizing that the two people I am practically stuck here for life are actually goofballs with senses of humor I'd be thrilled and jumping with joy. But to honest, it only made it worse. They were like me in a sense that they didn't wish to get to close. We all had differences that, by making us unique, also made us distance ourselves from the people we could have learned to care about. We refused to date, make friends, or even look at our loved ones for a fear of being hurt either by them or by our own faults. I didn't go to sleep for a while longer that night. I learned later that neither did Lockwood. He sat in the kitchen with his hands intertwined and pressed to his forehead in thought. George, however, was fast asleep and snoring rather loudly underneath me.

I stared out into the night on my bed, watching time pass and the moon slowly ellipse in the darkly colored sky. The only thought on my mind being what the freshly made breakfast was going to be like tomorrow.

* * *

 **A/N: I know it has been a long time, so here is what has been going on lately:**

 **1.) homework**

 **2.) Grades**

 **3.) Highschooler thoughts**

 **4.) ...**

 **5.) some rather... strange dreams**

 **6.) Welcome to Night Vale (if you have no clue what this is, I suggest you find out. Seriously. At the very least look it up.)**

 **So there.**

 **I will be working on the next chapter in The One Thing I Can't Live Without, and I will try to have it out by the end of the month (no promises) my updating schedule is very random. And I mostly base these stories on experiences I have had, like the sickness piece.**

 **My apologies to anyone who has been waiting for this chapter to come out.**

 **Have you ever wondered what it must be like to fly? If not, you must be a very down to earth.**

 **Songs inspiring this chapter: Dear Fellow Traveler by Sea Wolf, Dream by Image Dragons, and Heir of Grief**

 **Stay Tuned and Thanks for Reading!**

 **~Pheonix**


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